


I'd do anything

by theblobfishwrites



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: But like only to dismiss it immediately, Capable Jaskier in his own way, Curses and Fairy Tales, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, M/M, Or whatever it’s called, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, mention of suicide, sprouting, that thing where vines grow out of someone’s body, the big scary magic monster ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24234469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblobfishwrites/pseuds/theblobfishwrites
Summary: Then, a mischievous sparkle appeared in the bard’s eyes and the slightest hint of a smirk formed on his lips.Jaskier tilted his head. "You'd do anything?" he asked."Anything," Geralt confirmed determinedly and nodded while relief and disbelief washed over him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 372





	I'd do anything

**Author's Note:**

> So this is like 5 ideas merged into one and thus a little all over the place, buuuuut whatever xD

Geralt had never liked fables and fairy tales much. He didn't understand their purpose. 

He had never had any parents to tell such stories to him and Vesemir wasn't exactly a storyteller. Geralt's bedtime stories had been about the best ways to kill a gravier or the seven ways to distinguish the bite marks of a barghest from that of a wolf. 

So Geralt had only really come in contact with fairy tales when he had first set out on the Path, a long time after his childhood days. And when he had heard of them, he couldn't help but wonder if there was much point to people doing the right thing and acting virtuous if it wasn't of their own accord, but rather because some made up story threatened bad consequences. 

Nor could he understand why in a world full of monsters people felt the need to invent even more horrific stories than reality already offered. 

Or at least such had been his aloof take on the matter until recently, Geralt pondered as he stared into the sad puddle that was still left at the bottom of his tankard. Now, however, there was at least one fable he wished he had paid closer attention to and taken to heart. The story warned that you should value what you have before it's gone. 

Aside from that message it was utter nonsense, of course. A princess in love with a peasant boy, whose affections she takes for granted, the peasant boy who is too afraid to ask for her hand and a mage that inexplicably decides to get involved and curse them for it. And those were still some of the more realistic elements of the story. 

But Geralt hadn't learned the story's lesson and had taken the good things in his life for granted. When Yennefer had turned her back on him for good on that day in the Kestrel Mountains, he had been frustrated and angry. Not at Yennefer - he could understand her reasons - but at life in general, that it had put them in this position in the first place where they could never be sure if their feelings for one another were real or not. 

So he had taken his frustration and anger out on Jaskier. And Jaskier had taken that as his cue to leave. Geralt couldn't exactly blame him, he had never given the bard much of a reason to stick around in the first place.

A short while after Geralt's outburst, when his anger had subsided somewhat, he had subconsciously waited for the bard's soothing words, had longed for Jaskier to convince him that it would all work out or to distract him with his endless babbling. Instead, Geralt had only had deafening silence as company, as he had brooded over his fate on the way back down the mountain. Only then had he realized what he had had in the bard, who had always been by his side, had never been afraid of him, had always tried to cheer him up after a bad day. Jaskier had always been there for him, no matter what shit show destiny had decided to throw at Geralt again. 

But Geralt had taken all of that for granted and had only realised how much Jaskier had done for him after he'd chased the bard away in his frustration and had found himself alone again. 

And by all means, Geralt should have known better, he thought as he considered if he should get another drink. 

It had, after all, not been the first time he'd taken his frustrations out on the bard. He had nearly lost Jaskier then, too, with his reckless wish from the djinn to have some peace and quiet. But in the end, Geralt had met Yennefer that way, and Jaskier had still followed him around faithfully after the whole debacle. Maybe that was why Geralt hadn't thought twice about using Jaskier as his metaphorical punching bag a second time that day in the mountains. He'd assumed Jaskier would just shrug it off as usual and then still be there for him, as if nothing had happened. But this time he had lost his travel companion for good. 

And while Geralt was now aware what an asshole he had been, he still couldn't quite understand why he hadn't seen Jaskier again since the dragon hunt all those months ago. It hadn't been the first time they parted ways after all. There seemed to be some people Geralt just couldn't get away from. Yennefer, for example, because of his third djinn wish. The whole mess with the Child Surprise also tried to catch up with him again and again. And somehow, Jaskier, too, had been bound to him by fate or some other nonsense like that. Because ever since they first met, whenever they parted ways, they had eventually run into one another a few weeks later and travelled together again for a bit. 

So, after Geralt had climbed down the mountain, lonely, sad, and angry at himself instead, he had nonetheless not been too worried. He'd thought he'd just run into Jaskier again eventually and apologize. And then make sure to treat him better from there on, to value all the bard did for him. 

And yet, it had been far longer than they'd ever been apart since their first meeting, and even though he had started actively looking for him, Jaskier was nowhere to be found. So much for destiny. 

Wherever he went, Geralt asked around for a bard that sang songs about a white haired witcher. It was always an awkward question, coming from said white haired witcher, and it had earned him quite a few odd looks and the occasional "Aren't you travelling with him?"

Still, after the initial surprise and awkwardness people usually gave him an answer. He was almost always pointed in one direction or the other, but he never found Jaskier, only other bards who sang Jaskier’s songs. It seemed his bard had vanished off the surface of the earth. His songs, which haunted Geralt wherever he went, were the only trace that Jaskier had ever existed in the first place. None of those scoundrels sang them as well as the original author, though. 

Geralt downed the last sip of his ale and walked to the bar to order another. The barkeeper hadn't been any help in his search, either. When Geralt had asked about Jaskier, the friendly man had pointed him towards Alton a few towns over. But that was where Geralt had come from and the bard that sang about Geralt's adventures there once again hadn't been Jaskier. 

He placed his empty mug on the bar and waved the barkeeper over. The burly man put down the dirty tankard and rag he had busied himself with and hurried over. 

"Ah, Sir Witcher, another one, yes?" 

Geralt grunted in response and ignored the judgmental glance the barkeeper shot him. Geralt knew well enough that it was too early in the day to get drunk, but lately he just couldn't get himself to care. The barkeeper started refilling his mug without protest. 

"Say, Sir Witcher, about that bard you've been asking about?" 

Geralt, who had been slouching over the bar, stood up straight and fought back the pleasant fogginess in his head that had started to set in about two drinks ago. 

"What of him? Do you have news?" 

He had to fight down the urge to grab the man behind the counter by his collar and shake it out of him. 

"Well, it's um…" He had finished pouring Geralt's ale and was now nervously fiddling with his hands. 

"It's most likely not the guy you're looking for. I mean he did have brown hair and blue eyes, but he didn't play any songs about no witcher, not even when old Horace requested them specifically. Also, he wasn't jovial and energetic as you described, he was rather tired and haggard and quiet. And I wouldn't have said nothing, but a bit earlier the huntsman came by and she mentioned seeing tracks of several people in the forest. And the neighbouring village was ransacked by bandits a few days ago, and the bard mentioned he'd travel in the direction of that same forest. So I got a bit worried, and I just thought that maybe if you happened to travel in the same direction tomorrow, maybe you might keep an eye out for the fella or something?"

Geralt grunted, uncertain. That description did indeed not sound much like Jaskier, who was always energetic and so much larger than life. 

The barkeep continued, not noticing how Geralt's shoulders dropped. "I'm just mentioning it 'cause he was such a nice fella, ya know? Lucy, my eldest, has been utterly morose lately ever since that pompous knight came through here and promised to marry her next spring and then instead, we heard news he'd married someone else three towns over. Lucy was devastated and barely left her room anymore. But when that bard came through, he sat down with her and they had a heart to heart and afterwards Lucy was almost back to her old jovial self. 

I was already worried she'd set her eyes on the bard instead and would be set up for more hurt, but when I asked her about it she laughed and said no, the bard only told her the tale of how his own heart got broken recently and that helped her along somehow."

"I'm heading the other direction from the forest, sorry," Geralt replied. He really had to stop running after every random guy on the continent who carried a lute around. He'd never find Jaskier that way. Geralt had planned to head to Oxenfurt next, and then to Novigrad, even though he had looked for Jaskier in both towns three times already. 

The barkeep picked up the tankard he'd been cleaning with a shrug and Geralt picked up his own drink and headed back to his table. 

Lost in thought, the barkeeper mumbled on about the bard. 

"Yeah, really nice, that fella. Lucy held on to the dandelion he picked for her, even after it had long dried up already. Weird thing, to pick a weed for someone instead of flowers if you ask me, but Lucy claimed it was symbolic for something." 

Geralt stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back around and stared at the barkeeper. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he downed his drink in one go, placed the tankard on the bar and headed out, shouting over his shoulder that the barkeeper should feel free to give Geralt's room away to someone else. His puzzled gaze followed Geralt on his way out the door. 

In the stables, one of the man's many daughters had already tended to his horse, and Roach wasn't too happy about being saddled again. But Geralt offered her a sugar cube and whispered into her ear that he might have found Jaskier, possibly for real this time, and that if so, the bard was in danger. Roach snorted but obediently followed him out of the stables nonetheless. 

Geralt rode into the forest and started searching for the bandits’ tracks. It didn't take long until he came upon signs of a dozen or so men marching through. He followed them for a bit, until they crossed the wide forest path. The men had stopped there for a bit, and there was a single set of tracks on the path, coming from the direction of the tavern Geralt had set out from. The two parties had apparently met here and stopped their journey. The individual set of footprints didn't continue its journey further down the road. There was no blood though, or any other signs of struggle, so he couldn't tell by the traces alone what exactly had happened there. 

At least not until he got off Roach and looked around the area a bit. Because when he did so, he found a lute sticking in a brush, carelessly discarded. Geralt fought it free of the thick shrubbery and examined it. 

He recognized the instrument instantly. Geralt had spent a lot of time secretly watching nimble fingers strumming the strings. He cursed. 

Whatever had happened here, it hadn't ended well for Jaskier. The bard would never leave his lute behind voluntarily. The bandits must have taken him. 

Geralt had to find Jaskier fast before they did anything to him. He didn't even know how long ago Jaskier had come through here and cursed himself for not asking the barkeeper for more details. For all Geralt knew, it could already be too late. There might only be a dead body waiting for him when he found the bandits. 

He fastened the lute to Roach's saddle and followed the tracks on foot so he wouldn't lose the trail. It led a bit further and then off the path again, deeper into the wild. The bandits probably had their lair around here somewhere. 

Geralt drew his sword in preparation and listened intently for any noises so he could sneak up and surprise them. A group this large would be easily noticed a long time before he got close enough to be spotted. 

But the bandits weren't making any sounds and there weren’t any other warnings. So when Geralt finally found them, instead of sneaking up on their camp, he stumbled right into it very un-stealthily and clumsy, sword in hand, Roach's reins in the other. 

In the middle of the clearing he found himself in, surrounded by the bandits, stood Jaskier. Their eyes met and they both stopped dead in their tracks, staring at one another with open mouths. 

Jaskier looked… different. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept properly in a while, and he was skinny, as if he hadn't eaten properly in just as long. 

The reason Jaskier was surprised, Geralt imagined, was because he hadn't expected for Geralt to show up out of nowhere like that, especially without his usual grace. The reason Geralt was surprised, however, was because of the general situation he found Jaskier in. 

Jaskier was slightly hunched over, as if he was just standing up. He held the dagger in his left hand that Geralt had gifted him once so he could protect himself, and an unfamiliar sword in his right hand. He was breathing heavily. 

Scattered around Jaskier were the bandits. They were lying in the grass to his feet, dead, struck down by sword strikes. 

"Jaskier, what the fuck?" was all Geralt managed. 

Jaskier stood up straight, still trying to catch his breath. "Geralt?" he asked surprised. "W-What are you doing here?" 

Geralt took a few steps closer, checking out some of the bodies. They had been cut down brutally and mercilessly. "What did you DO?" Geralt asked, flabbergasted. 

Jaskier looked away, his cheeks turning pink. 

"Well I uhm…recently lost the luxury of being able to play damsel in distress, so when these lovely  _ gentlemen  _ decided to have their way with me, I had to take matters into my own hands, didn't I?" 

Jaskier looked back at Geralt and put his hands on his hips. 

"Or would you have preferred I let them kill me?" Jaskier asked, a challenging note swinging in his voice and a questioning look on his face, as if he was genuinely prepared for the answer to be  _ yes.  _

Geralt gulped. He  _ had  _ told Jaskier he'd wish life would take the bard off his hands. He hadn't meant it, of course, but clearly Jaskier had taken his words to heart. 

"No! Of course not!" Geralt ensured quickly. "But what I mean is… is HOW?" he gestured vaguely over the pile of dead bandits. "Since when do you know how to fight? I mean okay, we haven't seen each other in a while, I guess you learned it, but how did you get good enough so fast that you're able to take on a  _ dozen _ men by yourself?" 

Jaskier’s jaw dropped once more. Then he took his hands off his hips, threw his head back and laughed heartily. A beautiful, clear sound that echoed through the forest and sent a warm shiver down Geralt's back. Gods, he had missed Jaskier. 

"Hell no, I still can't fight for shit," Jaskier chuckled and threw the sword in his hand to the ground as if to prove his point. "No, I uh… let's see." 

He looked over the bodies and then pointed at one of them with the dagger in his left hand.

"Leroy here was their leader. But only because the former leader, Leroy's daddy, has recently kicked the bucket. Gustav here," and he pointed his dagger at another body, "wasn't really happy about that development, he rather wanted to be leader himself. So, he and his posse, Daniel, Frank, and Conrad conspired to overthrow little Leroy." Jaskier pointed at three more bodies next to Gustav. 

"So, I told little Carl about it, and he took big Carl and they swore their unwavering loyalty to Leroy in hopes of getting a bigger share of the loot in the future." Jaskier pointed at two more bodies, though unlike their names suggested, the first one was very broad and muscular and the second one was short and scrawny. 

"The rest fell in with either group and…that was that. It really didn't take much to push them over the edge," Jaskier finished. 

"Wait, so you manipulated them into killing one another?" Geralt asked, baffled. 

Jaskier shrugged. "I guess."

Geralt ran his hand down his face. "That's uhm… That's impressive." He was a little bit intimidated, if he was honest. He hadn't known the bard had that much power over people. He'd never seen people manipulated like that without the use of magic. 

Jaskier beamed at his words and a warm feeling spread through Geralt's guts. 

"Right then," Jaskier said after a short pause and walked to a nearby tree, leaned against it, and sighed heavily. Frayed pieces of rope were strewn across the roots. Jaskier must have been tied up there, before he had managed to cut himself free. 

Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Well, since we're in agreement that I am responsible for these gentlemen's untimely demise and that you arrived too late to the party, I'm sure we can also agree that I am entitled to whatever valuables these idiots have on them." He waved his hand dismissively. "So, why don't you get out of here so I can collect my loot in peace?" 

Geralt's heart dropped. For a moment it had felt like everything had been back to the way it once was between them. The sudden coldness in Jaskier’s voice felt like a punch in the gut.

Jaskier, still casually leaning against the tree, played with his dagger and looked at him expectantly, seemingly disapproving of the fact that Geralt hadn't moved. 

But even if he clearly wasn't needed or wanted here, Geralt couldn't just walk away. He had to say something to break the silence, to let Jaskier know that he was sorry. Jaskier should at least know that, even if he didn't want Geralt's company anymore. Where to even begin, though? Geralt had never done anything like this before. He had never before needed to apologize to anyone. 

"You're not playing the songs about me anymore," he settled on. That wasn't a good start, he realized, as Jaskier frowned at his words and wrapped his arms tighter around his chest, more protective now than challenging. 

"Yeah well, I haven't really felt like singing about your various heroics lately, I'm sure you can understand. But not to worry, I hear several of my colleagues have picked up the songs, so the defence of your reputation is in good hands." 

Jaskier started tapping his foot impatiently. 

Fuck. That hadn't gone as intended. He had  _ meant  _ to say that he had been looking for Jaskier. That he had been missing him. But the words that had fallen out of his mouth only sounded like an accusation. 

He'd have to do better, try again. Maybe not with words, those traitorous things, but with a gesture. Jaskier liked grand gestures. And he liked it when Geralt allowed Jaskier to touch him, instead of pushing him away. So a hug then. Not that Geralt had much more practice with those than with words, but he figured there wasn't much to be done wrong about a hug. It had always seemed simple enough whenever he had watched other people do it.

Geralt closed the distance between them with a few quick steps until he was standing right in front of Jaskier, who said "woah" and tried to back up further against the tree, his eyes wide with surprise and alarm. 

Maybe not a hug then. This apologising business was unnecessarily complicated. 

"Jaskier, I'm so sorry," Geralt huffed. From this close he could hear the heart in Jaskier's chest beat way too fast, could smell a strong flowery scent coming off of Jaskier, some sort of perfume, but subtly mixed in with it was the sour scent of fear. 

So Geralt had finally done it. He had managed to mess with the bard enough that he was now scared of Geralt. The one human in the world who hadn’t seen Geralt as a dangerous monster. But of course, it had only been a matter of time until Geralt would fuck that up and scare the bard away.

He dropped to his knees, trying to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible. 

Jaskier pulled in air sharply through his teeth. 

"Gods, I was such an asshole to you! How can I ever make up for that? You deserve so much better!" Geralt huffed defeatedly.

Jaskier just stared down at him with those large eyes and gave no indication that Geralt's words had registered with him. If anything, he only backed up further against the tree and clutched his hands around the bark, as if to keep himself from accidentally brushing his hands against Geralt's head. 

But that was stupid, because feeling Jaskier’s casual touch, feeling Jaskier’s fingers trace through his hair again, was exactly what Geralt wanted, what he'd been craving for months! Sure, he had been suspicious about Jaskier’s casual intimacy at first and pushed the bard away whenever he got too close, and then - after he’d gotten used to Jaskier’s incomprehension of personal space - he had continued to push the bard away out of habit. But now, after several months without Jaskier in his life, and now that Jaskier was so close he could see the calluses on his fingertips from playing the lute so much, Geralt was nearly going insane from the lack of contact.

Geralt tilted his head forward, hoping that Jaskier would get the hint and brush his fingers through his hair or something. 

But Jaskier suddenly gasped and wrapped his hands under Geralt's chin, holding him back before he could rest his forehead against Jaskier’s belly. 

"Don't!" he whimpered through gritted teeth. 

Geralt tensed. That could only mean one thing then. The problem wasn't that Jaskier hadn't understood that Geralt wanted them to be close again. The problem was that Jaskier himself didn't want that closeness anymore. Jaskier, who had always been eager for Geralt's touch, Geralt's affection, which he had foolishly given so scarcely. And Geralt had fucked it all up expertly. 

He reluctantly sat back on his heels, pulling away from Jaskier’s grip.

"Fuck, I'd do  _ anything  _ for you to forgive me," he sighed. But Jaskier had made it evident that he couldn't forgive him and Geralt had no right to demand as much. It seemed he had fucked up their friendship for good this time. 

Full of sorrow, Geralt dropped his head again and stared down at his hands, which were clutching the fabric of his pants. 

"I understand that I royally screwed up and that you can't… that you don't want me around anymore. Still, I'm glad that we met today and that I at least got the chance to tell you that I'm sorry," he concluded. And braced himself to see if Jaskier had anything to reply to that. Truth be told, he should probably just leave. Jaskier had already made it more than clear that’s what he wanted. But Geralt had to hear him say it out loud just one last time before he would be able to come to terms with it. 

They stayed like that for several moments, Jaskier leaning against the tree and still breathing heavily and Geralt kneeling at his feet, staring down at his hands. 

Or actually, maybe it would be easier if Geralt didn't hear it spelled out that he had destroyed their friendship irredeemably in his anger and stupidity, he thought as the seconds passed silently between them. But now it felt like he had missed his opportunity to just leave. Since he hadn’t left immediately and instead committed himself to waiting for an answer, it felt like he had no choice now but to wait out what it would be.

After what seemed like an eternity to Geralt, Jaskier let out a long breath and slid down the side of the tree until he was sitting in front of Geralt, one leg bent and hugged against his body and the other leg stretched out so it lay on Geralt's side in the grass. 

Geralt tensed and looked up. Jaskier was studying him and nervously biting his lower lip. There was a pained expression on his face. 

So this was it. The moment Jaskier would irrevocably confirm that their friendship was over and what Geralt had broken was unfixable. He gulped. 

Then, a mischievous sparkle appeared in the bard’s eyes and the slightest hint of a smirk formed on his lips. 

Jaskier tilted his head. "You'd do anything?" he asked. 

"Anything," Geralt confirmed determinedly and nodded while relief and disbelief washed over him. 

  
  


First, Jaskier handed Geralt his waterskin and sent him to fill it at a nearby stream. Which was easy enough, of course, but Geralt was reluctant to leave the bard out of his sight, now that he'd finally found him again. 

He fulfilled the task as fast as he could. When he returned to the clearing, Jaskier was still leaning against the tree, his eyes closed now and his head resting against the trunk. 

Geralt cleared his throat and held the waterskin out to Jaskier. 

Surprised, Jaskier opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "That was fast," he remarked. Geralt shrugged. 

Jaskier took the waterskin from Geralt's hand and emptied nearly half of it in one go. 

"Right," he said then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I uh… well my feet are tired, so I want you to carry me!" Jaskier demanded. Geralt raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

Jaskier blushed and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Or, uhm, I guess you could let me ride on Roach, that would work, too," he mumbled sheepishly. Then he looked up confidently again. "Either way, I don't intend to take another step by myself today!" 

"Hmm," Geralt said. If dumb little tasks like this were all that Jaskier needed to forgive him, that wasn't so bad. Geralt had expected far worse. That there was nothing to be done at all, for example. 

He kneeled down beside Jaskier and put one arm under his knees and one against his back and lifted the bard up. Jaskier smiled brightly and wrapped his arms around Geralt's shoulders, sending warm shivers down Geralt’s back. He felt weirdly light-headed. 

Geralt collected himself with some effort and carried Jaskier over to Roach, where he helped him climb out of his arms and onto her back. 

"I found your lute by the way," Geralt pointed out as he saw the instrument hanging from Roach's saddle and briefly wondered why the bard hadn’t already noticed it himself. Jaskier gasped and made grabby hands and Geralt reached the lute up to him. 

He expected Jaskier to wrap his arms around the wooden corpus and cradle the instrument against his chest like a child, but instead Jaskier unceremoniously fidgeted with something at the top of the strings. He pulled out a piece of paper, folded several times, from between the strings and the fingerboard. Then he reached down from Roach's back and handed the paper to Geralt, who took and unfolded it, his eyebrows raised questioningly. 

It was a map of the general area. 

It was drawn hastily, the ink smudged in some places, but incredibly accurate. The few written out names of towns, rivers and other landmarks were in Jaskier’s handwriting. 

Jaskier pointed at a small mountain range, a few hours away from their current position. 

"That's where we need to go!" he declared, but didn't offer any further explanation. 

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, his eyebrows still raised in a silent question. 

"I mean you said...but if you don't want to…" 

The look on Jaskier’s face was so full of pain and fear that Geralt quickly interrupted him. "Anything. That's what I said." He grabbed Roach's reins and started walking. If that's where Jaskier wanted to go, Geralt didn't need to know the reason. Just as long as they were travelling together again. 

When he looked over his shoulder after the first few steps, Jaskier's expression was still somewhat pained, but also relieved. Maybe everything would eventually be fine again between them, Geralt hoped. 

They didn't talk on the way to wherever Jaskier had pointed him. Jaskier himself didn't say anything and only stared at his hands, which were clutched tightly around the pommel of Roach's saddle. And Geralt didn't know how to go about breaking the silence. He didn't want to risk saying something wrong again that would make Jaskier change his mind about trying to forgive him. 

When they got close to the mountain range on the map, Jaskier started directing him to where he wanted to go exactly. Finally, they ended up in front of a cave opening in the side of one of the mountains. It was well hidden behind large boulders and Geralt wouldn't have found it without the directions. 

"Right. Here we go again, you wench!" Jaskier burst out. 

"What… exactly are we doing here?" Geralt asked, wondering what the cave had done to upset Jaskier like that. 

Jaskier blushed and looked down at Geralt. "Uhm, you know the tale of the lovers' rose?" 

Geralt did. It was the one he had pondered over so much, lately. "Some princess gets cursed, a peasant boy, who's in love with her, goes to find some magic cave, defeats the fearsome snake monster guarding it and brings back the healing water from inside the cave, which is said to be able to lift the curse. He goes back and saves the girl and then the king lets him marry her. That one?" Geralt summarised. 

"That's the one," Jaskier confirmed. "Though, he doesn't defeat the monster. She gives him the water willingly because he's seeking it out for selfless reasons and not for himself." 

"Right." Geralt rolled his eyes. Fairy tales were so ridiculous. "So, what about it?" 

"This is it," Jaskier said, nodding his head in the direction of the cave entrance.

"This is what?" Geralt asked, confused. 

"This is the cave with the magic water," Jaskier clarified. 

Geralt laughed. "Bullshit. The story's not real." 

"How do you know?" Jaskier asked and raised his chin challengingly. 

Geralt shook his head and started listing off points that made it obvious to anyone that the story was ludicrous. "Well first of all, no king would marry his children to peasants, no matter how much they saved their lives. Then the curse. Wasn't it something about roses growing out of her chest? That's an awfully complicated way to kill someone. And the water that heals the curse? It's never that straight forward with magic. Why would the spellcaster let there be an out like that in the first place? But most importantly, the monster. There is no such thing as giant talking snake monsters." Geralt was really starting to wonder what this was about. Was it some weird prank to get back at him?

"Well I don't know about the marriage part, but otherwise you're wrong. The story is real and this is the cave." 

Geralt snorted. "Well how do YOU know then?" 

Jaskier smirked as he always did when he knew he was right about something. Somehow, he didn't look smug this time though, only sad. "Because I went inside and talked to the snake monster lady." 

Geralt once again found himself gaping at Jaskier in surprise. 

"She told me all the details the fairy tale tends to leave out. The spellcaster had created the monster and the magic water themselves, together with the curse. It was supposed to be some sort of test rather than a definite death sentence…" 

Geralt looked at the cave and then back at Jaskier. And then at the cave again. "Seriously? You found the actual snake monster from the story?" 

"Yup. Unfortunately, she refused to give me any of the water. That's where you come in. Go in there and kill the bitch. Or actually, maybe she'll give it to you, then you don't have to kill her. Either way, I need the water." Jaskier looked at Geralt expectantly. "Anything. That's what you said, right?" 

"Uh." Geralt was still trying to make sense of the situation. "Why do you want the water though?" he asked. 

Jaskier blushed again and looked away. "I uh… I imagine it would fetch a nice price?" he asked more than declared. 

Geralt ran his hand down his face. "You want me to go into a fairy tale cave, kill the monster inside and fetch you some magic water. Because you want to sell it?" 

"Am I asking too much?" Jaskier asked sheepishly. Fear was written in his face again. 

Geralt shrugged. He had said  _ anything  _ after all. It just seemed… strangely unlike Jaskier to ask this for no particular reason. If it had been something shiny, maybe he would have understood but this was just glorified water. 

"Whatever," Geralt grunted and pulled his silver sword from the saddle. 

If the monster was really that big and dangerous and created by magic, it would probably be susceptible to silver. He picked up an empty vial from his potion bag and put it in his pocket. 

Then he unwrapped and unsheathed the sword and walked into the cave, Jaskier's gaze burning into his back. 

Enough light was falling in through the cave entrance and some holes in the high ceiling that he didn't need a potion to see well. The path was narrow. The wall to his left was solid all the way to the ceiling, but the wall to his right formed a ledge several feet above him, leading up to a wide plateau of sorts. He followed the passage, which curved slightly to the right. 

Geralt had walked for quite a while and the passage hadn't changed in the slightest, which seemed odd to him. If this was supposed to be some kind of test, if everything was purposefully designed, shouldn't something have happened by now? He started to consider if he was supposed to climb up the ledge. He studied the wall to his right and noticed that it looked different than the one on the other side. On his left there was smooth, solid rock, but the wall on his right had a strange pattern to it. 

Suddenly, the wall on his right moved past him. He realized then that the strange structure were scales and that it wasn't a wall at all. 

Geralt gulped. He had fought many monsters that had been described as "giant" but they paled in comparison to the size of this creature. 

The monster's tail was all around him now, blocking the way back. Geralt was cornered into the back of the cave, which wasn't narrow at all, as he now realized, but round and huge. The giant snake monster still filled it out almost entirely. Geralt cursed. 

The movement around him got slower and then stopped and the snake's head, or rather her upper body, appeared above him. The section of tail before him ended in the naked torso of a woman. She was muscular and several times as big as the torso of a human. Needle-sharp teeth glittered between her lips and her eyes were green and slitted. She raised a hand, which ended in equally needle-sharp claws, and threw a strand of her long crimson red hair over her shoulder. 

"Well, this is exciting. I haven't had company in decades and now there's two visitors within a week." Her voice echoed through the cave. 

"But you're not a very well-mannered guest with your sword drawn. Why then, have you come to kill me?" she asked and then put a hand in front of her mouth and giggled. The idea of Geralt trying to kill her seemed to amuse her. Geralt had to agree that it wasn't a very realistic scenario. 

"I've come for the magic water," Geralt said and lowered his sword. He wouldn't even know how to fight something this big. She could just crush him with a flick of her tail if she wanted to. 

"Well if you know of the water, I'm sure you know the rules as well. I'll only give it to you if you want it for selfless reasons. So, what do you need it for?" Her torso slithered closer. She placed her elbows to Geralt's left and right, her arms framing him like living columns. Then she propped her chin onto her hands and watched Geralt expectantly with piercing eyes. 

"I intend to give it to someone else," Geralt replied, keeping his answer vague on purpose. 

The snake lady giggled again. "Yes, to your bard friend outside. Who came for the water before. And I didn't give it to him, so now he's sending you to run his errands." 

She tilted her head to the side "Not a bad approach I suppose. Very creative. You're getting the water for someone else, so it could be considered selfless. However, I disagree, you're hardly acting out of the bard's interest alone. You hope to be forgiven for a mistake you made." 

Geralt gulped. If she could read his mind that easily despite his resistance to such magic granted by his mutations, there wasn't even the slightest chance to defeat her. He'd have to tell Jaskier that it couldn't be done. Surely Jaskier would understand. They could find another magic souvenir to sell if Jaskier needed money. 

Geralt would just have to convince the creature to let him leave unharmed again. 

She giggled once more. "Relax, I'm only teasing you. I've always been a sucker for a tragic love story!" Her torso disappeared into the depths of the cave and everything started moving again around Geralt, which made him slightly nauseated. 

"You can have the water," came her voice from… Geralt couldn't even tell from where. 

After several minutes, one section of  _ tail _ in front of him started getting thinner and thinner and finally ended in a tip, opening a passage. In front of Geralt lay a small fountain and behind it, the cave exit. 

Geralt hurried to fill the vial up and ran out of this ridiculous place, not quite trusting that it would be this easy. 

Fairy tales really had no business being real, he thought.

He slowed down and hesitated for a moment at the exit. 

"Thanks!" he called over his shoulder, as he remembered that there were plenty of stories where someone got punished for not showing proper manners. Another giggle echoed through the cave as he stepped back outside. 

Jaskier had gotten off Roach and was once again sitting on the ground, leaning his back against a large stone. He held his lute in his hands but wasn't playing. His head was resting against the rock and his eyes were closed. Geralt watched the way the sunlight caught in Jaskier’s hair and the flecks of pink on his cheeks and how despite his relaxed position his brows were still furrowed and how he was biting his lower lip. Geralt imagined what it must feel like if those teeth dug into  _ his  _ lips instead and… Oh. That was new. When had he started thinking about the bard in this way? Geralt tried to distract himself by purposefully looking somewhere other than Jaskier’s face and focused on the bard's hands instead. His long, slender fingers weren't relaxed either, they gripped the instrument in Jaskier’s lap rather tightly, his knuckles were a bit white even. Normally, Jaskier’s hands were far more tender than that, like when they brushed through Geralt's hair or rubbed away the tension in Geralt's muscles. He missed those hands on his body, he wished they would… Damn it, that wasn't distracting him from those weird, new thoughts at all. 

They weren't actually all that unfamiliar, Geralt realized. He had just been better at pushing them down before. But now that he hadn't seen the bard in so long and he had a moment of peace, they all bubbled up at once. Geralt was rather uncertain about how to deal with this.

But he wouldn’t figure that out now, anyway, so he pushed those thoughts down once more, stopped staring, and walked over to Jaskier. 

Jaskier only reacted when Geralt stood right next to him and Geralt's shadow fell on his face. Then Jaskier startled and flinched though, as if Geralt had sneaked up on him. He wondered where Jaskier had travelled in his thoughts, that he had been that distracted. 

"Geralt, you're back! Do you have the water?" Jaskier greeted him impatiently. 

Instead of a reply, Geralt held the flask out in front of him for Jaskier to take. Jaskier desperately jerked it out of his hands, plopped the cork open with his thumb and downed the entire thing in one go. 

"What the…? I thought you were gonna sell it?" Geralt was very confused. 

Jaskier ignored him and lifted his shirt up instead. Tightly pressed against Jaskier’s stomach was a myriad of differently coloured rose plants, the thick thorns cut into his skin in various places. Where the stems, some thick and brown, others fresh and green, met Jaskier’s skin, trickles of blood mixed with thick, green ooze dropped down. The stems originated from Jaskier’s body, Geralt realized with horror. The plants weren't just wrapped around his torso, they were actually growing out of him, rooted somewhere around his belly button. 

Geralt flinched and his knees gave in from simply imagining how much pain Jaskier had to be in. 

Suddenly, the roses' leaves rustled like from an invisible wind. Then they began to wilt before his eyes, petals drying up and one by one falling to the ground, the vines turning dry and wooden and then crumbling to dust. Within a few seconds, Jaskier’s belly looked normal again, his skin was only a little red anymore. Jaskier sighed in relief and leaned his head back against the stone once more. For the first time since Geralt had run into him, he actually looked relaxed. The underlying pain in his features was gone. 

Fury washed over Geralt. "Who did this to you?" he hissed and grabbed his sword tighter. He would kill whoever caused his bard so much agony. Slowly. 

"Relax, no one did," Jaskier mumbled without opening his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. 

"Jaskier, that was a curse, a really bad one. Someone cursed you. Tell me who did this to you!" 

Jaskier looked up at Geralt. Then he blushed and looked away. "... wasn't my curse," he mumbled. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Geralt snapped and tried to grab Jaskier by his shoulder but Jaskier once again flinched away from his touch. 

"The, uhm, lovers' rose curse can be transferred to someone else through a kiss. It wasn't me who got cursed," Jaskier said while pulling down his shirt again. He nervously played with the hem and determinedly didn't look at Geralt. 

"What, so some dimwit got themselves cursed and then snogged you to save their own hide? I'll kill that bastard then!" Geralt snarled. 

"No, it's not like that!" Jaskier yelled and threw his hands in the air. "It can only be transferred willingly!" 

Geralt's head was spinning. "Wait, what? So you agreed to this? What the fuck were you thinking?" 

Tears sparkled in the corners of Jaskier’s eyes. "Gods, Geralt, she was only thirteen! And the only thing she did wrong was to pick an apple from a random tree. Except the tree apparently belonged to some crazy witch!" 

A hollow feeling spread in Geralt's guts. "The barkeeper said you were talking about heartbreak. Is this what it's about? Your latest muse left you and you couldn't take the heartbreak?" 

"Don't be silly!" Jaskier scoffed. "If bards killed themselves every time their heart was broken, there wouldn't be any music on the whole continent! I just wanted to help the girl. But I'm not a witcher or a fighter so I couldn't very well walk up to the witch and threaten her with a sword to her throat. I had it all planned out, though. Everything would have been fine. That is, until that fucking snake decided not give me the water!"

"But why wouldn't she?" Geralt mumbled, confused. "If you wanted to save the girl's life, surely that would have counted as selfless?" 

Jaskier bit his lower lip and hesitated for a moment, before he answered. "Apparently it doesn't count if you save someone's life because you want to feel useful and like less of a burden to people…" 

A piercing pain in Geralt's heart. So it was his own fault that Jaskier had been so reckless. Geralt had said those awful things to Jaskier and made him feel worthless to the point that he felt like he had to prove himself by risking his life. How could he have been such an asshole? 

"But it was really nice, you know?" Jaskier continued. "Not the praise and gratitude, though that wasn't bad either, but just how happy and relieved she was. Just knowing that she'd still have a chance to grow old now." Jaskier looked up, right into Geralt's eyes. "So, I guess I get it now. Why you risk your life for people, even if they throw stones at you afterwards. The whole hero thing is rather intoxicating, isn't it?" 

"You're not doing anything like this ever again!" Geralt snapped. Jaskier's smile dropped from his face and he glared icy daggers at Geralt. Fuck. Geralt just wasn't good at this. 

"What I  _ mean _ is," Geralt tried again. "…Please don't risk your life like that again. I hate the idea of you being in pain. I couldn't bear to lose you." 

"Hmm," Jaskier answered vaguely and shrugged. 

They glared at each other for a while. Once again, Jaskier seemed to have no intention to break the silence. Geralt didn't know what he hated more, Jaskier not just babbling away about this and that, or that instead Geralt had to come up with something to say that wasn't completely rude and moronic. He didn't have a very good track record of that lately. 

"Why didn't you tell me the water was for you? I would have preferred to know I was saving your life and not just your purse," Geralt finally settled on. 

Jaskier shrugged again. "I don't know. I guess I didn't want to have this…  _ lovely  _ conversation while some weeds were still eating my insides." Then Jaskier looked up at him sheepishly. "But if you prefer it that way… we could still go about it like that for the other curse?" Jaskier offered. 

Geralt flinched back. "What?" he pressed out between his teeth. 

Jaskier smiled sadly again and pulled down the neckline of his shirt, revealing his shoulder. 

It was decorated with a large bruise, violet and green and yellow, and in the shape of a skull. Dark veins were stretching out from it, curling in the direction of Jaskier’s chest. Geralt had never heard of anything like that, but it was clearly a curse. And with those dark veins creeping towards Jaskier’s heart, probably a deadly one. 

"Fuck. Jaskier, what did you DO?" Geralt mumbled and carefully ran his thumb over the mark. Jaskier flinched back and hissed in pain, even from the light pressure of Geralt's touch. 

Jaskier shrugged and let go of his shirt, which slipped back up into place, hiding the mark once more. "Well I took on the lovers' rose curse from someone else, thinking that I could lift it, but I couldn't, so I knew I was going to die, " he explained casually, as if talking about a picnic interrupted by rain rather than his death. "So when I ran into someone else who was cursed, well, it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. Make use of the situation and all that." 

"So you just went around snogging people to collect curses?" Geralt huffed, completely baffled. He very much did not like that idea. And not just because of the part where Jaskier would be hurt by it. Jaskier had always kissed a lot of people. Geralt had always been annoyed by it. Because it would always get Jaskier in trouble, of course. No other reason. Geralt clenched his teeth. 

"Of course not," Jaskier returned, exasperated. "The curse of the ninth night can't be transferred through a kiss, you need to cast a very specific spell. Some sort of blood ritual. Requires lots of symbols drawn on the ground, sacrificing some animals, chanting, the whole package." He glanced at Geralt and grinned. "Some dancing naked under the full moon was also involved. Anyway. Wholly different story than the lovers' curse." Geralt had no idea if Jaskier was joking or not. 

"Jaskier," Geralt pleaded. "I have no idea what that curse even  _ does,  _ let alone how to lift it. Or how much time we have left. I have no idea what to do! I should go get more water, that's gotta help, right?" he scrambled to his feet. 

Jaskier frowned. "Nah, unfortunately the waters do nothing against this one." He scratched his head. "Well, I didn't think I'd get this far, but let's see what I can remember. Hmm. There's at least two different stories in which the hero gets cursed with something like this. Both of which end with the curse broken, as far as I recall." 

Geralt dropped back to his knees and grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders, careful not to touch the dark spot under his shirt."What? What do I do? Tell me," Geralt huffed. 

"Uhh." Jaskier was trying hard to concentrate and Geralt suppressed the urge to shake him heavily. Gods, he was so worried. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Right, so in one story they go and… Oh, right, that doesn't help us." He opened his eyes to look at Geralt and shrugged apologetically. "True love's kiss. Right the other one then. Uhm, they brew a complicated potion and when the hero drinks it, the spell is lifted. I've read an old version of the story once, where the ingredients were listed as some sort of poem or song. How did it go again?" Jaskier closed his eyes and pinched his nose. Then he started humming quietly, with lots of pauses in between, listing of the ingredients on his fingers. 

_ " _ _ Round about the cauldron go, _

_ in the poisoned entrails throw _

_ Skin of toad and spike of bone, _

_ sharpened on an eagle stone _

_ Serpent's egg and dancing dead, _

_ effigy of beaten lead” _

Geralt gulped. That sounded complex. Collecting the ingredients alone would take a while. 

_ "Fillet of a fairy snake, _

_ In the cauldron boil and bake"  _

And it was all in code, too, they'd first have to figure out what each listed ingredient even stood for. 

_ "Eye of newt and toe of frog, _

_ Wool of bat and tongue of dog _

_ Lizard leg and fairy wing, _

_ round about the cauldron sing." _

What if they didn't have the time to collect all the ingredients in time? What if the curse reached Jaskier’s heart first?  _ Ninth night  _ didn't sound like they had too much time on their hands and how long had Jaskier carried this around with him already anyway? 

"Well, the singing around the cauldron is probably not required and just in the song for flavour," Jaskier threw in before starting with the next verse. 

_ "Root of mandrake dug at night, _

_ when the moon is full and bright"  _

How did Jaskier even remember all of that? And from only reading it once, a long time ago? Geralt felt a warm feeling spreading in his guts again. He couldn't lose the bard. And he couldn't take the risk that they would run out of time collecting the ingredients. 

" _ Slip of yew and twig of fern, _

_ make the fire dance and  _ huh?" Jaskier mumbled as Geralt leaned forward and pressed their lips together. 

He only kissed Jaskier shortly, more of a peck really, and then leaned back again. Jaskier was staring at him with large eyes, his hands outstretched where he had counted ingredients on his fingers, now frozen in place. 

"Geralt, what…?" Jaskier giggled, confused. "What are you doing? I'm trying to concentrate!" 

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s shirt and pulled it down his shoulder again. 

"Ah, Geralt, not that I'm opposed to the idea of you undressing me, but really I think we have other…" 

He trailed off as they both stared at Jaskier's shoulder, where the dark bruise slowly faded. "...problems…right…n ow…What the?" Jaskier continued and then looked at Geralt, flabbergasted. 

"But the story very clearly says that only  _ true love's  _ kiss will work!" he gasped. His eyes went large "... Oh…" 

Geralt couldn't help but smile smugly at that. Then he got serious again. "Any other curses I should know about?" he asked sternly, prepared for anything. 

"Uhm, yeah, definitely! There's the uh hanged man's curse!" 

Geralt waited for Jaskier to reveal another part of his body blemished by horrific magic, but Jaskier only looked at him, expectantly. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "And how do you break that one?" 

Jaskier blushed. "Uhm, it's the same remedy, actually. Isn't that convenient?"

"Hmm," Geralt said and leaned forward to kiss Jaskier again, longer this time, and Jaskier dug his hands into Geralt's hair and pulled him closer. 

Finally, Geralt leaned back again. Jaskier gasped for air. "Is that it then?" Geralt asked. 

"Yeah, no, I also have the lead tongue curse, unfortunately," Jaskier smirked. 

Geralt raised his eyebrows "Doesn't that render one mute, though?" 

"Hmm." Jaskier shrugged. "Seems I'm immune. Better safe than sorry though." 

Jaskier tugged at the front of Geralt’s shirt and he obediently leaned forward to kiss him again. 

"What else?" 

"Well there's the curse of the restless maiden also," Jaskier said and wiggled his eyebrows. "That one's actually a pretty nasty one, you might need to use a little tongue to break it." 

"Hmm," Geralt said and instead pulled down Jaskier’s shirt again. He placed his lips on the spot where the other curse had left its mark earlier and sucked on the skin there, which was once again white and unblemished. Geralt didn't intend to leave it that way. 

"Oh, that works, too," Jaskier gasped and then moaned. 

Geralt leaned back and inspected his work. A new bruise was already forming. "You'll run out of curses eventually." 

"Not bloody likely, I read a lot of stories in my life! The runestone blood curse! The damnation of the eye! The chained oak curse!" Jaskier listed with a mischievous smirk. 

Maybe fairy tales weren't so bad after all, Geralt thought, and leaned back in for another kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated! Thank you~  
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://justablobfish.tumblr.com/), if you want!


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